


Keep Going

by astrangerenters



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Flashbacks, Introspection, Light Angst, Mild Language, Missing Scene, POV Tifa Lockhart, Present Tense, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24300481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: “He’ll show up tomorrow morning like nothing happened. You know the stingy little grump’s gonna come looking for his money.”“Right,” Tifa says, knowing he’s trying to help. Trying to make her smile. Trying to convince her that miracles are possible.[Set immediately after Chapter 7/the Mako Reactor 5 mission]
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 9
Kudos: 139





	Keep Going

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve wanted to know what happens with Tifa between the Airbuster battle and Corneo’s mansion for 20+ years, but it took the Remake to finally make me write my own take on it. Thanks, Remake! Is it right to tag something Cloud/Tifa when he doesn’t even appear? Hmm…

Her ears are still ringing from the explosion when Barret finally sets her down. Maybe he thinks if he’d set her down earlier that she’d have turned and run back inside. She wouldn’t have. They’ve come quite a ways, back down into the belly of the plate. She follows Barret past more jagged metal, past boxes and equipment covered in heavy tarps that rustle in the sharp wind that whips its way through, making the catwalks shudder and sway with their footsteps. 

Even here the air already stinks of burning mako. The wind will carry it all down to the slums soon enough. They’ve cleared the reactor, but they’re not safe yet. Not by a long shot. They walk for a while, and it’s only when he turns back to look at her that she realizes he’s been speaking to her. It’s hard to hear him, his words are muffled. It’s harder still to listen, especially now.

He grasps her shoulder, gives her a shake. It takes a while to make out his meaning.

“Plan…gotta stick to…” He holds out the grappling gun Biggs gave him. Barret waves it a little, finally realizing he has to say it without words. 

Right. The plan. The exit strategy. The exit strategy where the three of them…

Barret gives her a little nudge, pushing her along.

On the plate above, it’s likely that fire trucks are already racing to the reactor. It’s likely that homes are being evacuated, that Shinra’s putting out roadblocks to find them. There’s none of that noise, none of that panic under here. Only the mako stink. Only the flickering of some of the massive lamps as the other reactors work harder to patch yet another gap in the network. There’s a similar process going on inside Tifa right now. Confusion, panic, horror, threatening to overtake all other systems. If the gaps aren’t patched quickly enough, she’ll more than flicker. She’ll just shut down.

The trains will be stopped soon if they aren’t already. They anticipated that after the last mission, and given the state of the ID checks, it would have been an impossibility either way. This plan was the backup, the slow escape. Melting into the shadows, heading back beneath the plate. Safe, mostly, so long as the underplate infrastructure’s not rusted out along the route. It’ll be after 1:00, maybe 2:00 AM when they have their feet back on solid ground and not Shinra metal. This plan was designed to get them home if the trains couldn’t.

Then again, like most plans, it was designed to get them _all_ home.

It’s not a short trip by any means, making their way from the reactor to the support pillar that holds the Sector 7 plate in place. The grappling guns are only there to bridge any gaps in the path along the way. A long walk to the pillar, and a long long walk down from still dizzying, still unreal heights. It’s a wonder she can still put one foot in front of the other. After the train. After the tunnels. After the lamps. After the explosion that’s left her ears ringing, her limbs shaking, her mind screaming.

Cloud had a grappling gun, the same model as the one she holds in her trembling hand. He could have found a way, she tells herself, lies to herself, if only to keep moving. To keep going.

“Cat with nine lives,” Barret says a little while later, breaking up the repetitive thudding of their boots along the walkways. 

“Huh?”

“Mister Ex-SOLDIER,” Barret assures her. “Like a cat with nine lives, I said. Gonna be okay.”

But Tifa knows how far it is to fall. Even cats with grappling guns have their limits.

There’s fewer monsters this way. Unlike their route earlier that day (hours ago but god, it seems like days…) this one’s been fairly well cleared by Shinra. Small mercies. But it’d be better if they hadn’t done such a surprisingly good job. That way she could turn her mind off a little, punch her way home, let out the frantic energy that’s got her struggling to breathe. Nine lives, she repeats until she doesn’t seem to recognize any other words. Nine lives.

They make it to the pillar. Jessie will have worked her magic already by now, ensuring that anyone on the evening shift won’t see them heading down. Keep going.

They make it down the stairs. Keep going.

They make it to Seventh Heaven, and Barret turns back to look at her before she can figure out what she’s going to say. How she’ll answer if Marlene asks. 

“Tifa, you go on home. We’ll get everything locked up here.” He leans in before she can interrupt or argue, urging her to look up at him. “He’ll show up tomorrow morning like nothing happened. You know the stingy little grump’s gonna come looking for his money.”

“Right,” she says, knowing he’s trying to help. Trying to make her smile. Trying to convince her that miracles are possible.

//

Jessie’s had one too many Cosmo Canyons. Tifa knows this because she’s the one who made them for her. But tomorrow night’s the big night.

“And if we get ourselves caught, then I’ll spend the rest of my days rotting in some Shinra prison,” Jessie had decided before downing her first drink. “So I better have some fun tonight.”

Wedge bowed out first, wanting to ensure he got his “cat time” in the same way Jessie’s getting her drink time before the big do-or-die mission. Biggs and Barret are half-assing a game of darts. Tifa’s surprised neither of them have missed the dartboard and hit one another yet. She suspects that’s another drink or two from now though.

Tifa’s only had a few out of solidarity, even if this mission doesn’t sit right with her. She’s a team player, has always tried to be, but there’s just so many things that might go wrong. Bombing a mako reactor…innocent people could get hurt…

“Why didn’t your buddy come by tonight?” Jessie says, interrupting her thoughts. “Get to know us a little before the job?

“Hmm?”

“Your buddy.” Jessie leans forward, index fingers to her face, pointing to her eyes. “SOLDIER guy.”

_“I’ll do the job. But I’m only interested in the money, not socializing.”_

Tifa shrugs, not sure why she’s feeling so protective all of a sudden. Protective of Jessie’s feelings, protective of Cloud’s too, even if she hasn’t seen him in forever.

“He’s…I don’t know…shy I guess? Always has been.”

Jessie’s fingers are tapping on her cheeks. One, then the other. Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Pointing at her eyes. “I know I should hate it and all but…they’re kinda sexy, right?”

Tifa sips her drink slowly, leaning against the bartop on the opposite side. “What do you mean?”

“The eyes. That mako glow.” Jessie’s fingers slip down her cheeks. “You think they glow in the dark?”

Tifa struggles to respond, always does when this kind of talk starts. “Jessie…”

“I bet they glow in the dark. I’m dying to find out.” Jessie giggles a little. “Shiny eyes, super strength. Man, I wonder what other kind of _enhancements_ SOLDIERs have…you know, like…in the _stamina_ department.”

“Can you not…” Tifa can feel the heat in her cheeks and knows it’s not all from the alcohol. “Don’t talk about him like he’s just…”

“Oh Tifa, you’re no fun, hogging him like that. You and your friend grew up together, took baths together, I get it…” Jessie says with a teasing sigh. “But now the boy next door’s grown up smokin’ hot, glows in the dark, and is totally down to blow up a reactor with a bunch of misfits…”

“We never…” She pinches the bridge of her nose, mortified. “It wasn’t like that…”

Biggs has a dart tucked behind his ear when he comes lumbering over, holding out his empty glass expectantly. “Hey ladies, whatcha talkin’ about?”

Jessie doesn’t even look at him, staring Tifa down.

“Enhancements.”

//

She laughs quietly, letting the water fall down her back, pressing her forehead against the wall of the tiny shower stall. The word “enhancements” came to her midway through her shower, and it’s just about the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

She’s not thinking of enhancements that might liven things up in the bedroom, even if the Jessie in her head would encourage that train of thought. No, Tifa’s clinging to the thought that a SOLDIER’s enhancements could cushion an impossibly long fall. Between that and the grappling gun, he might’ve…he might’ve…

She gets out, towels off, not caring about going out with damp hair. It doesn’t really matter that she’s washed it. The polluted air in the slums usually wreaks havoc on it anyway, and the burnt mako stink still lingers now that morning’s come again. She locks her door, slowly walking to the one next door. Neighbors again, after all these years. She’s barely had time to process it, sharing a wall with him. Wanting to know everything she’s missed but instead she’s given him space. It seemed the kind thing to do, though some of the things he’s done…some of the things he’s said…

Tifa has so many questions, and now she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get any answers. Especially when her most important question is why Cloud would say “five years” when the answer ought to be seven. Right?

It doesn’t surprise her, but it still aches when she knocks a few times and gets no response.

She heads for the bar, seeing so many wary faces along the way. The trains won’t be resuming any time soon. People can’t get up to the plate. Glowing TV screens shout accusations, Shinra’s lies. And she can see that many are believing them. Every other whisper is about Wutai. Wutai and Avalanche and the prospect of another horrible, costly war when they already have so little left.

A man flags her down, one of the food truck owners. “Hey Tifa!”

She puts on a smile as best she can, approaches the order window. “Ayden, how you holding up?”

“Another day, another misery,” Ayden sighs, and Tifa doesn’t hear the usual pops of cooking oil within the truck. 

“Something I can help with?”

“Maybe,” he says, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Had a shipment due this morning, flour and some other staples. Held up in Sector 8. Think that merc of yours can look into it for me?”

_He’s not **my** …_

She bites that back quickly. “He’s out on a job,” she lies. “Not sure when he’s getting back. But I can ask the Watch if they’ve got anyone free. If your stuff’s getting held up, then it’s only a matter of time before all of us are impacted…”

Ayden seems disappointed. “Ah, I dunno about getting the Watch involved, especially with all that’s going on. They’ve got enough on their plate. Well. If your guy gets back, send him my way.”

“You got it,” she says, heading off.

Cloud’s definitely made an impression around here in a short amount of time. Although Tifa’s not quite comfortable with people thinking of him as hers to order about. She’s already held him to a long-ago promise to help her, gotten him mixed up with Avalanche, and now look what’s happened. He might be dead because of her foolish demands.

No, no, no, she tells herself. She has to believe. The grappling gun. His SOLDIER training. The money owed him from the reactor job. And their night out, she reminds herself, breathing in and out. They haven’t had their night out on the town yet. 

He has to come back for that.

//

Barret’s told Marlene a similar lie, that Cloud’s off on some other job. But Biggs, Wedge, Jessie…they all know. They keep looking at Tifa, probably wondering what to say. She’s shocked when they’re kind enough to say nothing at all. Even Jessie keeps things close, squeezing Tifa’s hand and offering a gentle smile.

Everyone’s playing along. Everyone’s acting as though Cloud will walk in any moment, grumbling about his money. 

“Probably got stuck on the way back,” Barret says, watching Marlene color at one of the tables. “Can’t get up or down from the plate, can barely get around down here. And if someone held a bag of gil in his face and said they had another job for him, he probably took a detour. Takin’ the loooong way back.”

Eventually some of Marlene’s friends come calling, and she’s given permission to play with them, so long as they all stay together at the playground. She’s expected back when the lunch crowd winds down. 

Tifa focuses on lunch prep, chopping vegetables, slicing cold cuts for sandwiches, hanging back a little from the post-mortem meeting that starts up. The air grows more tense as they recap the events of the day before. Everything that went wrong, from the train to the tunnels to the reactor. Shinra’s manipulation. Jessie shrinks back more and more as the ID troubles come out, the issues with the detonators come out. 

“Not solving nothing,” Barret eventually says when they’ve exhausted the Sector 5 reactor job, shaking his head. “What’s done is done, and instead of pointing fingers at ourselves, let’s remember who the real assholes are here. And that’s the Shinra. Next order of business?”

“Some weird guys were sniffing around last night again. Pestering people as they were closing up for the night in the marketplace,” Wedge says. “Watch had their eyes on it, but they’ve got their hands full. Might be more of them here asking around than we know.”

“Any idea who they are?” Tifa asks.

“We need to do a little digging of our own,” Biggs says. “Can’t confirm anything yet, but someone overheard one of them mention ‘The Don.’”

Barret fumes. “Don Corneo? The hell business does Corneo got with Sector 7 all of a sudden? Sending his grunts here. He ain’t got enough to keep his ass busy where he is?”

“We could always ask him,” Jessie jokes.

“Yeah yeah, just walk up to that perv palace he lives in and ask him,” Barret grumbles.

“I can look into it,” Tifa pipes up.

Biggs shakes his head. “We can handle it, Tifa, don’t worry about it…”

But she needs this. She needs something to do, right now more than ever. She needs the distraction. She needs the next steps to take. After the reactor, with Shinra’s lies about Avalanche and Wutai. She wants to do more, needs to do more. For all that she’s hesitated, stayed back and let the others do the dirty work, she’s in this now. She made the choice to do the last job, no matter the consequences. No matter how it’s going to haunt her. 

She can’t sit here making sandwiches and mixing drinks like she’s nothing more than a local business owner who lets terrorists strategize at one of her tables. Whether Cloud Strife walks through her door ever again, shares a wall with her ever again, Tifa has to keep moving. Tifa has to do her fair share. She can’t sit things out, not anymore.

“Please,” she says, staring across to the table where they’re gathered. Strategizing.

“Let me think about it, Tifa,” Barret mutters. “The intel gathering and whatnot. Any other new business today?”

Biggs looks a little uncomfortable. “Stretched a bit thin, I know, and we’re especially tight on gil at hand. So with that in mind, are we going to look into confirming, umm…if he made it…”

Tifa shuts her eyes, stops midway through her chopping. She knows they can’t play pretend for Marlene forever. She knows they have to talk about it.

“Biggs!” Jessie complains, elbowing him.

“If he made it,” Biggs insists, “then he probably did get held up somewhere overnight, just like Barret said. Trains aren’t running, some of the main roads down here have Shinra patrols and aren’t letting people pass through so easily, especially without ID.”

“And Cloud’s not from around here,” Wedge chimes in. “New to Midgar, ya know? He can’t know all the alternate ways to get through. I’m totally on Team Cloud is Stuck In a Really Long Line.”

“We’re forming teams now?” Jessie grumbles.

“Could be on Team Lost All His Gil in a Wall Market Gambling Den,” Biggs jokes.

“Team Dropped That Big Ass Sword in a Reactor Runoff Pool and is Still Crying About It,” Wedge suggests.

“How about Team Shut Up Wedge, Who Asked You!” Jessie snaps.

“Enough of this shit!” Barret demands, shutting them up with a fist to the tabletop. “This ain’t the time for that kind of joking, you hear me?”

They quiet down, look a little embarrassed.

“When he gets back, he’ll get his money. And that’s all I have to say on that matter. I think that’s enough. We gotta clear out and let Tifa get this place open for the day.”

The meeting adjourns, but mostly so they can continue to strategize elsewhere and not as one conspicuous unit. Jessie heads downstairs, Biggs heads out and to the left, Barret and Wedge out and to the right, walking together, presumably to determine how to approach the Corneo question.

Tifa gets things ready, expecting a larger crowd today since a lot of folks aren’t topside at their jobs, having their lunches there. Before she turns her sign to Open, she catches a glimpse of the flower Cloud gave her, not so long ago. She changes out the water, sets it back.

Keep going, she tells herself. Keep going, Tifa, she tells herself, and not for the first time.

//

It’s been a long journey. 

From student’s house to student’s house, so many she’s lost count. He thought maybe the Shinra would follow them. She was in and out of consciousness, incoherent and confused for what must have been the first few houses. Feeling split in two, only to then feel fresh healing spells wash over her. “Again,” she’d hear Zangan say. “Again, until there’s no sign of it.”

By the time they were ready to cross the ocean, there was no longer a need for bandages. There was only the dark scar, the dark reminder that what happened in Nibelheim was real. That what happened _to_ Nibelheim was real. They’re nearly to the Midgar gates when there’s only a thick pink line she sees when she’s alone, getting clean. A fraction of the wound’s original length, diagonal. Between her breasts, across her heart.

She wants to keep it, she insists upon it. This wound that was a match for her father’s, she can’t let it disappear entirely. She allows no more healing spells, no more strangers’ hands pressed against her to focus the spell the same as they’d focus a punch or kick that Zangan had taught them. Her scar may fade more, in time, but it will not disappear.

The chocobo carriage is bumpy as it moves along the uneven roads of Midgar’s undercity. They pass beneath a sign that reads Sector 7. “This will be the last stop,” Zangan’s promised her. “A friend will aid you here. I will return for further lessons and training when I can.”

He has so many students, she’s not sure when she’ll see him again. He’s already given her so much.

He didn’t ask her where she might have liked to go, but she thinks it’s quite kind that he’s chosen Midgar. No place better to start over, or so everyone’s always believed. There’s so many people here. There’s no Sephiroth here, not now, if the Shinra newspapers are telling the truth. They say nothing of Nibelheim, nothing of a small mountain town engulfed in an inferno. The papers say only that Sephiroth the war hero was killed in action. 

Maybe she can find people she knows, those who left Nibelheim before things went wrong at the reactor, before there was no more Nibelheim to return to. Maybe she can find Cloud. She doesn’t know if any news has reached him here, in the SOLDIER barracks. That must be where he is. She’ll find him, tell him what really happened back home. If the Shinra newspapers won’t tell him, she will. She owes him that.

The carriage comes to a halt in front of a two-story apartment building. The air here smells so wrong, so tainted, but where else is she going to live with no money and only her teacher’s kindness? Certainly not up top, not any time soon.

Zangan grabs the satchel that’s been packed for her, holds out a hand to help her down from the carriage. There’s so many people here, watching the new arrival. So many people just walking the streets. More in this neighborhood than in all of Nibelheim. And this is just one sector out of eight, and there’s eight more high above. How will she ever get used to this? She takes the bag from Zangan, hugs it against herself. A smattering of donated toiletries and clothing. Tifa has nothing of Nibelheim but her memories and the scar Sephiroth left behind. Keep going, Zangan repeated when she was in and out of consciousness. Keep going, Tifa.

She mumbles it to herself when an older woman comes out of one of the doors on the ground floor, a curious dog at her heels. Her hair is wild, tied up but almost exploding from her, there’s so much of it. The smile she offers Tifa is genuine. So is the smirk she offers Zangan. Keep going, Tifa breathes. It’s going to be okay here.

“Zangan, you’re late. Could have temporarily rented that room and brought in three more days of gil,” the woman says.

“I have a few students topside,” Zangan bargains. “Give me a week to rustle up some lessons, and I’ll make it up to you, Marle.”

“Bah,” Marle says, waving him off. “I’ll give _you_ a lesson one of these days.”

They chat a little longer, trading stories, but Tifa can only look around. Look up and up and up to the plate that blocks out the sky. Zangan hugs her goodbye, tells her they will meet again. Tells her to remember what he’s taught her, that she’ll need it here far more than she ever needed it back home. The chocobo carriage rumbles off, leaving Tifa here in Sector 7 to start from scratch. To keep going, even when she’s not sure how to. Not sure if she even wants to, after everything. But her mother taught her to be polite. 

Tifa steps forward, borrowed boots kicking up a bit of dust. “I’m Tifa Lockhart. Nice to meet you.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, too, Tifa,” Marle replies, opening her arms. “This may not be your home, but it’s mine. And you’ll always be welcome in it.”

//

By the third day, she loses track of how many people ask about Cloud. They catch her on the street when she’s trying to find out about Corneo’s men. They ask her when she’s pouring drinks. Where’s your merc, Tifa? Got a job for him.

Courier jobs. Construction jobs. Jobs where all he has to do is carry that sword around and say nothing. Tifa’s had to disappoint them all, had to smile and apologize. Promise to pass on the message.

“You oughta take a cut of his earnings,” Barret says later that night as the Seventh Heaven crowd starts to trickle out. “They all think you’re his manager.”

She’s cleaning glassware, wondering how long she ought to stay tonight, just in case he walks through the door. The first night after the first day she locked up at 2:00. Last night at 3:00. Is she going to be foolish enough to stay until daybreak this time? Would he even come here first? She likes to think he would. If only to come get the money owed him. 

She’s so tired. 

How long is she going to have to smile and turn down jobs for him when she doesn’t even know where he is? He won’t leave without saying goodbye, not on purpose. He’s got a few little items in his room. Toiletries and things. Nothing close to settled down, but he won’t leave them behind. Even if this second reactor job has put him off Avalanche (and who could blame him, she supposes), he’ll come back. 

Even if he wants to move on, he’ll still come back to say goodbye. For all her doubts, all her questions about the man he’s become, she just knows in her gut that he won’t leave her without saying something.

But what if she isn’t here if he does come back? Would he wait?

She’s not sure how long this business with Don Corneo will take, and Barret’s still not too excited about her pending recon mission tomorrow evening. But her chocobo carriage ticket’s paid for, her fancy dress is ready, and Jessie’s rustled up some high-end makeup for her. Mascara, eyeliner, lipstick. Likely smuggled down from a department store up top. Barret thinks she ought to take Jessie with her. The implication, maybe, is that Jessie’s the one with the acting background. That Tifa’s honest face will make deception impossible.

Or maybe he knows she’s still worried. Distracted. And distracted gets you in trouble.

“Get outta here. Rest up,” Barret insists a little after midnight. “Walkin’ into a pit of vipers tomorrow. And I need you to come back without getting bit.”

“I can handle…”

“Yourself. Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, waving his gun arm. “That much I know, Tifa. But you’re one person and the Don’s got a whole damn private army.”

She smiles shyly at his concern. It’s just information she’s after, not a fight. She tidies up, and he waits out on the porch for her to lock up. 

“We’ll keep an eye out. Tomorrow night, I mean. While you’re gone,” Barret says. “You know, case he finally decides to show. I’ll put a boot in his ass myself for makin’ you worry.”

She looks up at him, grateful that Barret’s initial impression of Cloud has softened. He’s worried about him, too, even if he won’t say. “Thanks.”

They go their separate ways, and Tifa heads home. It’s late, quiet, one of those hours after midnight when she misses the stars the most but gets only the plate. The Shinra lamps are poor substitutes for constellations. 

Marle’s waiting outside, despite the hour. She’s got an annoyed look on her face, too. “Been hiding from me, honey.”

She smiles, waves dismissively. “ _Hiding_? No, no, Marle, it’s been so busy at the bar…”

Oh, but that’s exactly what she’s been doing. Hiding, if only to not have to tell Marle just why the room beside hers at Stargazer Heights has sat empty the past few nights. Marle knows exactly when her tenants come and go. It’s far easier to lie to the people who come around offering mercenary work. They’ll either wait for Cloud or get someone else to do it. The lies she tells them are pretty harmless, only serve to put him more in-demand than ever.

But lying to Marle has always been impossible.

“Get in here,” Marle insists, pointing to her door and stopping Tifa before she can make it to the stairs.

“I don’t want to trouble you so late…”

“It troubles me more when you go days without saying hello.”

Marle turns, heading inside, knowing Tifa will follow.

The slum smell never seems to make it past Marle’s threshold. It always smells calm in here, safe. A place that’s both Midgar and not. You can barely see the walls because she’s got them covered in photo frames. Over the years, Marle’s told Tifa the story of almost every one. They were taken by a former lover - details about the man are slimmer than what Tifa’s learned about the photos. Gone, Marle always says about him. Left Midgar? Passed away? Tifa doesn’t know, doubts she ever will. But the mystery man took all the photos, told Marle about them. Left them all behind.

Tifa passes by the Wall of the World, Marle’s name for her inherited collection. Sure, there’s photos from here in Midgar, places both on top of and under the plate. Factory workers from Sector 3. A child digging through a heap of scrap in Sector 5. But then there’s photos from places Tifa’s never been. A temple in Wutai, from the days before the war. Bundled up companions hiking near the glaciers way up north, snowflakes whirling around them. If Marle’s got a photo of Nibelheim, she’s never had it on her wall when Tifa’s come for a visit.

Marle settles in her chair. Tifa takes her boots off so she can curl up on the couch with the dog.

“That boy run away?” Marle asks, getting right to the point.

Tifa looks down. She’s been dreading this. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

“But he’s not here?”

“He’s on a job in another sector.”

Marle lets out a sigh. “Tifa…”

She isn’t sure how much Marle knows. Marle’s known for some time what kind of plans are made at Seventh Heaven, has supported Avalanche indirectly longer than Tifa’s lived here, but that doesn’t mean she knows all the nitty gritty details. Or that she even wants to know them. Far easier to be ignorant if Shinra goons come sniffing around the neighborhood. You can’t tell them what you don’t know.

“I…” She focuses on petting the dog. “I don’t know where he is, Marle.”

“Been getting home late the last few nights, hm?”

“Yes.”

“Been waiting for him, have you?”

“…yes.”

Marle just has no idea for how long. Tifa’s been waiting, in a way, since she forced Cloud into that silly promise seven years ago.

“What’s that thing they always say about a watched pot?” Marle grumbles. “You’ve done everything to help that boy. Put a roof over his head, food in his belly, gil in his pockets…you don’t have to sit around waiting for him when he ought to be thanking his lucky stars that…”

“I didn’t do any of that,” she replies. “You had the room open here and…”

“Tifa. Honey.” She looks up, sees that look in Marle’s eyes. “You two have a fight?”

Her laughter is forced, and she knows Marle can tell it is. “No, no, nothing like that at all…” A fight, Marle’s thinking. As though she and Cloud are something that they’re very much not. “We got separated out there. I’m just worried about him. I hope he’s okay.” 

“I told him to do right by you,” Marle says. “Didn’t expect him to fail so spectacularly so soon, but I’m gonna hold him to it. I’ll change the lock on his door tomorrow, sell off any of his effects.”

“Marle, you wouldn’t!” she sputters, startling the dog a little.

Marle grins. “No. No, I wouldn’t. But you’ve got a real blind spot where that boy is concerned. You’ve been so happy since he got here, and I don’t want to see you sad. Not over some ungrateful childhood sweetheart. You deserve better.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she protests weakly, and not for the first time since Cloud Strife’s come to Midgar. 

Tifa doesn’t even want to think about things like that, not when he’s got her so confused. The Cloud Strife who comes bearing flowers and asking if she wants to talk is also the Cloud Strife she found wandering around the Sector 7 train station in a fog, eyes glowing but so haunted. He’s also the Cloud Strife who gets terrible headaches that he brushes off, refuses to explain.

“Marle…” she manages to say.

“Hm?”

“I’ve got a job tomorrow. Won’t be home until late. Might take even longer.”

“Dangerous?”

She shrugs. The less Marle knows about this particular job, the better.

“Okay,” Marle says, not prying any further. “And I’m guessing you want me to keep an eye out for him, pass on a message if he comes crawling back here?”

Tifa smiles weakly. “Tell him he can see Barret about his pay. And tell him I’ll be coming back soon. If you can manage it, tell him not to leave yet.”

“He owes you the world for everything you’ve done, and I won’t let him forget it this time.” She slowly rises from her chair. “But once I’m done scaring him, I’ll tell him what you said.” She opens her arms. “Come here. You look like you need one.”

She gets to her feet, unable to keep from grinning. Tifa feels loved and protected when Marle’s arms wrap around her tight. “Thank you.”

“Be safe out there.”

She squeezes Marle back. “I promise I will be.”

“You go get some sleep now, okay?”

“Okay.”

Tifa takes the stairs one at a time, pausing at her door with her key in hand, looking aside. How long was she talking to Marle…what if…

She shakes her head, talks herself out of knocking on the neighboring door. Hearing nothing in reply yet again will just make it harder for her to face tomorrow. Her key turns in the lock, and she tugs the door open. Takes it all in. Dress hanging on a hook, makeup waiting on her desk. 

She just has to make it through the day. And then the chocobo carriage will arrive just after dark.

She’ll see him again. She hasn’t lost him. She’d feel it somehow, wouldn’t she? She knows she’ll see him again.

Tifa brushes her fingers against the fancy fabric of her dress, taking a breath.

For now, she’s got a job to do. 

_Keep going._


End file.
